The Greediness of being a woman
by vogue91
Summary: Bellatrix Lestrange is a withc. But, first of all, she's woman, even if nobody seems to understand it. One night, she decided to finally reaveal what she really feels...


Hello everybody! Before you read the story, I want to make a little clarification. I'm not English, I'm Italian, and I tried to translate the fiction on my own… I ensure you I've done my best, try to understand me!

Good reading!

The Greediness of Being Human

(The Venal Muse)

_Muse of my heart, you who love palaces,  
When January frees his north winds, will you have,  
During the black ennui of snowy evenings,  
An ember to warm your two feet blue with cold?_

Naked, looking herself into the mirror, Bellatrix saw a woman. That woman that everybody stopped to see when the Mark had been engraved on her arm. It was night, her room's window was open. A glacial wintry breeze came in, hit her with violence, but she seemed to be immune to it. Or better it seemed that wind pleased her. It made her stronger, exempt from the pain, like she had been through all those years. Meanwhile, her room's door opened wide. She covered herself with a sheet, quickly, when Voldemort came in, slowly.

- When did you start being shy, Bella?- he asked her, with tired expression. She put on a proud look.

- Shouldn't I, My Lord? Maybe I'm not a woman too?- the wizard sneered

- Injured dignity, my friend?- he asked her. She put her look down

- Maybe just loneliness- he went nigh her, putting an arm around her shoulders, with protectiveness, but with that mockery smile still imprinted on his face

- You're never alone- he hissed in her ear, pointing the mark on her arm. She avoided him

- And so nobody of us is ever alone. And who am I more? I'm just another slave, which missing won't cause the minimal inconvenience!- she shouted

Voldemort came nearer

- Bella… what do you want?- he asked her

- I want to be loved- she shook her head, sarcastic – or unless, satisfied-

_Will you bring the warmth back to your mottled shoulders,  
With the nocturnal beams that pass through the shutters?  
Knowing that your purse is as dry as your palate,  
Will you harvest the gold of the blue, vaulted sky?_

He went close to her again, aware, like he didn't want to make her escape. With a finger, he started to draw her throat's outline, then going down on her collar-bone and the shoulders.

- Tell me how much time is gone by since someone lost himself into this crystal skin?- he asked her

- Crystal is though and cold, Voldemort. Let's tell me which man would like to be content of second-hand goods- the wizard had never heard Bellatrix talk to him so bitterly. He noticed he knew the woman since almost twenty years, and he didn't know a thing about her.

- You're really beautiful- he tried to say, provoking in her just a pity smile, which made him feel just such all the other men. He began to irritate.

- What's your problem today, Bella?- he asked her. She lowered her look.

- The most powerful wizard in the world. You could have whatever you desire. The _power_. But you make yourself restrain by the fact that you're never supposed to understand a thing about women. Or human beings, generally- she accused him, vehement. He draw quickly his wand and pointed it to her throat.

- Seeing that you're so good instead, why don't you explain to me the meaning of being a woman, Bella?- he challenged her

_To earn your daily bread you are obliged  
To swing the censer like an altar boy,  
And to sing __Te Deums__ in which you don't believe,_

- To please you I made to many things I'm not proud of. I became crazy in Azkaban. Just because I believed your cause was supposed to change the magic world. And what did I get? To be just like those who stay near you just because they're afraid?- she said, with ease voice – I forced my nature for you, Voldemort. I'm the one you made me become. I believe I deserve something more-

- And what do you want? You've got all. You helped me, it's true. But you are a right-hand woman for me, you're the only one person I could trust in. Do something more exists, Bella? Or you're just looking for a reason to go away?- he alluded. She turned back, suddenly

- I'll never forsake you, My Lord. I'll stay by your side because this is the way I chose. I just want you to… allow me to be with you, before than second-hand, a _woman_- it was useless, he didn't understand, or he didn't want to. And he was never going to. But Bellatrix arrived to her bearing limit. She still believe in everything he ordered her to do, but inside her body and mind there was no more place for _being_. Bellatrix Black had died, she left her essence to be eaten by the one who stood up in front of her, the one she had always seen just like a man. He sighed

- That is a way I preclude to myself a lot of years ago- he declared. She became embittered.

- So just tell me how it's possible that the man who committed the most terrible crimes, who have fun by playing with humans lives, deprive himself of the only one sin which has got also something good inside- she went a few centimeters from his face- something you can't understand, can you?- he took her from her nape, with violence

- Do you really believe you're not a temptation, Bella?- he hissed – But there are temptations I forbid myself to give up to, or I wouldn't be where I am today- she got free from his grasp, and let the sheet falls down.

- Resist is for cowards- she accused him. He forced himself to look her in her face

- Is for cowards to go away too, Bella?- he stared at her, sadly – Bye, my little. It's time for each of us to stay at his place- he went nigh her, he took her face on his hands and kissed her with a tenderness he ignored to belong. After, he wavered a few moments, before he leaves the room.

_Or, hungry mountebank, to put up for sale your charm,  
Your laughter wet with tears which people do not see,  
To make the vulgar herd shake with laughter._

Bellatrix stayed impassive. She would go on with her game, her acting dedicated to the entire world. That strong woman, cruel and sadist. She promised to herself that nobody would ever see her pain, her anger's nature. Nothing could strict her admitting she was a refused woman. She looked out the window, and greeted the Moon Scythe. They had something in common. Both suffered because they missed something to complete them. She envied that weird heavenly body, so mysterious, which was supposed to have back the part he had been stolen by in a few weeks. She closed the shutters. She didn't need the wind anymore.


End file.
